


What We Do in the Shadows

by Rhysanoodle



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, Mutual Pining, Sexual Tension, Spying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 10:41:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25968322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhysanoodle/pseuds/Rhysanoodle
Summary: After months of pining, Azriel finally takes Elain on a spying mission with him. Feelings escalate between them.
Relationships: Elain Archeron/Azriel
Comments: 4
Kudos: 94





	What We Do in the Shadows

“So, why are we flying again, exactly?” Elain pestered Azriel as they soared through the countryside of the southern Night Court. Not that she had any objections to prolonging the journey if it meant having his corded arms wrapped around her and being able to inconspicuously nuzzle into his chest when an unexpected draft hit them.

“Would you rather walk?” Though she couldn’t see his face, Elain could practically hear him raising a smirking eyebrow at her for the question.

She flicked him in the chest. “You know what I mean. Why not walk through the shadows? Wouldn’t it be faster?”

“You never know what you’ll encounter in enemy territory so it’s better to conserve your strength. Jot that rule down too.”

Elain fought the urge to roll her eyes. She’d been training for months—years really, if she counted all of her practice honing her skills before Azriel had become her dedicated mentor—just for him to finally take her on one of his spying missions. But training with him had come with a strict set of rules—everything from being required to train with a blade to a whole assortment of guidelines on when and where to flee, even if it meant stranding her companion in the process.

“You’re incorrigible,” she complained, but she couldn’t fight the grin worming its way onto her face. Her concerted efforts had paid off, and now Azriel was finally taking her with him to the human lands to spy on the traitorous queens.

“We will use them to get through the wards on their borders though,” he added. “It’s just easier to save them for when they’re truly necessary. Plus, we left with plenty of time.”

“I thought one of the most powerful Illyrian warriors wouldn’t need to concern himself with such small expenditures of power.” Perhaps she was ribbing him too much, but to be honest, it was in part to hide her burgeoning nerves. Here she was, alone for days on end with Azriel. _The_ Azriel. Shadowsinger, spymaster, and the object of her fantasies for longer than she cared to admit.

But he never seemed to look at her that way. Getting him to agree to something like this prolonged alone time was the best she could do, and it would just have to hold her over until she found a way to move on. She knew from experience that it was a long and painful process—and that was when she’d been scorned by an asshole. A male as wonderful as Azriel … Well, that might take an eternity.

“Trying to flatter me?” Elain’s toes curled at the soft seduction in his voice, low and slow and preening at her compliment, unspooling something within her. She was glad that her heart had already been pounding out of her chest at the brisk pace of their flight so that he wouldn’t detect its treasonous nature.

“Oh, have you never heard that one before? You must not be as good at listening in on hushed conversations as your title would suggest.” Deflect. Avoid. Misdirect. Don’t let him look too closely at your burning cheeks and sheepish grin.

“Perhaps. Just never from your lips.” If Elain didn’t know any better, she could swear he hovered just the slightest bit on the last word, but she did. It was just her imagination getting the best of her, filling in all the blanks she wished Azriel would one day fill himself.

Cauldron boil her. It was going to be a long, taunting trip.

* * *

Azriel did his best not to fidget too much. The tent was uncomfortable—too small for two to sleep in—given his wings, yet he had been loath to sleep separately from Elain. There were too many things which could go wrong, too many enemies lurking that even his shadows could not detect them all.

Though he had planned their trip through Prythian carefully, relying on the good graces and assurances of Thesan and Tarquin not to go hunting for him as he slipped silently through their borders and made use of their land, he was not taking any chances with Elain.

There would be no taverns, no inns, no palaces—though they had been offered. The secrecy of their exact movements was of the utmost importance. And so was making sure that his companion didn’t get swallowed up by the night in an unknown territory.

He rolled carefully onto his stomach, doing his best not to disturb her bedroll, and stretched his left wing out, hovering it above her sweetly slumbering form.

The day’s events came flooding back in as he listened to the measured sounds of her breathing, wishing he could know what kind of dreams would be visiting her tonight. Would he be in them?

He shook his head. He had gone too far today, his teasing her back bordering on flirtatious, and he could not afford to let that continue.

Azriel was doomed to fail at love for an eternity. First with Mor, and now … Well, how was he supposed to expect anything out of a mated female? She and Lucien would fall together eventually, and Azriel would need to let go, but … It was extremely difficult to deny himself these guilty pleasures for now.

He had finally caved to her requests for the sole purpose of getting to spend this selfish alone time with her. She was truly prepared for the mission at hand, and he _did_ need some backup, but he would be lying if he said that it wasn’t her presence which had caused him to reassign Cerridwen at the last minute and take the unattainable female with him instead.

Back in Velaris, they constantly got bombarded with winged busibodies and the like whenever they sought out those quiet moments for themselves, and he was growing weary of sharing her. Even if she would never truly be his to begin with.

When the news that the queens would be holding their first Samhain festival in centuries over on the continent, outside the boundaries of their bewitched castle, Azriel had jumped at the opportunity—and then steadily realized that he might be separated from her for over a week, depending on how things shook out. And that was unacceptable to him.

Here now, he fought the urge to drape his wing fully over her sleeping form, an Illyrian symbol of protection but also one of possessiveness. One which he didn’t deserve, even though she may have no idea of what the violation meant.

He grunted softly as he tucked the stretching wing back in, giving her back her space and her freedom to make her own decisions without him looming over her. He wasn’t sure how he was going to survive this week without her burning through his festering heart, but he sure as hell was going to do his best to enjoy every moment of it.

* * *

Elain had gotten used to waking up to the pink-tinted glow of sunlight filtered through the gossamer of Azriel’s wing. She couldn’t blame him for needing to stretch it out in the tent which felt cramped between the two of them.

Clearly, this was his own personal living quarters while on the road, and he had deemed it necessary to share this with her, despite her protests that she could survive if given her own. But since he was carrying her as well, she gave in once he pointed out that it would just be more for him to manage.

Not that she was complaining. With their bedrolls only inches apart, Elain found it difficult to breathe. Here he was. So close that she could roll over in her sleep and invade his personal space. It was a blessing and a curse to be so close and yet have this chasm she realized might never be bridged between them.

Each morning now, she fought the urge to reach a curious finger up to find out if they truly were as silky and smooth as she imagined. Azriel was always closely guarding his back, and even Rhys didn’t seem to like having his wings out too often when it was unnecessary, so she had reservations about his response if she were to touch them without permission.

And then there was the fact that as soon as Azriel awoke every morning, he snapped the wing back into its home with such fervor that the sudden gust of wind created in the cramped living space had caused her to jump on the first morning.

He then proceeded to be almost what she would describe as moody through breakfast and for the first hour or two of their flight. Silent and stoic, obviously puzzling through something in his head behind that cool mask of his, before Elain’s gentle words finally coaxed him back to her.

This morning was different though. They were finally in the borderlands of the mortal lands, hiding within a dense evergreen forest as they were to creep their way towards the festivities later this evening. She could feel a thick tension in the air around them. A rubber band about to snap as Azriel recoiled from her slightly more gently, more tenderly upon his waking, as he trudged through the chores of getting ready with a similar but more focused silence. Whatever had been on his mind for the past few days which she couldn’t whittle out of him was clearly trumped by the approaching gravitas of their mission.

They spent the day going over their plans. In a crowd this dense, they would have trouble sneaking through underneath his veil of shadows without being jostled, so they would go as they were, under cover of the traditional black cloaks worn to celebrate the end of harvest season and beginning of winter in the mortal world.

“But what about your wings?” Elain probed, wondering how in the world he could ever conceal the talons which reached an apex even taller than his head.

Instantly, his wings faded until there was only the faintest glimmer of shadow. “Problem solved.”

“I thought you couldn’t hide us because there will be too many people around.”

“That’s why you’re going to trail me very closely.”

“And people won’t get suspicious of that?” Elain could only imagine the thought of two skulking figures parting the crowd, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Not if we play the parts right. I’ll appear as a drunken noble. If you strap an obvious dagger to your belt, you could be my bodyguard, following in my wake. If you care for a different role, many of these humans have … companions who accompany them at parties and celebrations. You could blend right in.”

Elain’s cheeks heated as she blurted out, “Bodyguard. Definitely that one,” earning an approving nod from Azriel as he handed her an assortment of blades, which she deftly strapped on, leaving one noticeably visible about her waist to turn the curious eye.

When the time came for them to leave, Azriel’s Siphons glowed briefly as their campsite was obscured from view, the shadows to alert him if anyone still managed to stumble across it, and they trudged to the edge of the clearing where Elain could see the torches and bonfires ignited across a good many acres of yellowing farmland, smell the tang of ale and the sweet aroma of expensive spices wafting towards her.

“Are you sure they’ll be here?” she murmured to him, just loudly enough for his Fae ears to pick up over the live music.

“They’ve grown complacent since their transformations,” he whispered back, causing a slight shiver to shoot down Elain’s spine at the mention of that night. “I’ve had eyes on them reporting that they’ve set up a base in one of the farmhouses for the week. All we need to do is find their war room and pray to the Mother that there’s something of value in there to take back to Rhys and Feyre.”

Elain nodded, kneading her hands together at the thought of what was about to transpire, praying that everything would be worth it and that they’d make it out safely.

“Let’s go, then,” Azriel murmured, drawing his hood up over his head and stalking out into the crowd. Elain hurried to catch up with him.

* * *

Azriel quickly made his way to a stand reeking of ale, throwing a few coppers on the counter for the tankard which would serve as his mask. People paid no mind to the bumbling fools roaming around, especially considering many of the people surrounding him seemed to be on their way to a long night and a throbbing headache tomorrow morning.

After leaving with his purchase, he slowly adjusted his gait as he roamed, from steady to mildly erratic. A reveler who’d had a few drinks and didn’t look like he was stopping anytime soon. He couldn’t turn around to check on Elain, but he could feel her trailing a few feet behind him, obviously giving off a threatening enough aura that nobody attempted to separate them.

They twisted and turned through the festivities, his shadows picking up bits and pieces:

_Danae and Jacinta are preparing for the Rite._

_Myrine waits in the shadows watching them._

_Zephyra approaches the outskirts of the festival._

That was all four queens accounted for. Azriel pulled on that last shadow thread, requesting more information and was pleased to receive images of the crone, whisking her way back to what had to be the nicest residence in sight, waiting for the guards out front to bow before they bid her entrance.

Azriel paused, focusing all his attention on locating the direction of the farmhouse, and felt Elain pull up short behind him, but in her efforts to grind to a sudden halt, the gap between them had significantly closed. It wouldn’t seem unnatural to anyone watching or perhaps even to Elain whose eyes were shielded as well, but …

A shiver raced down Azriel’s spine, as he murmured, just loudly enough for her to hear, “That tickles.” For Elain’s ragged breathing was assaulting his wings, making it difficult for him to keep still, to not flare them in response, to keep his cock from twitching beneath his cowl, for him to just fucking think clearly.

 _Close_. This was too close. Not even a lover had been allowed this sort of access to his wings, and here he was, frozen, in the enemy’s territory, praying that she’d relieve him. Shift slightly, turn her face away, _anything_.

“Oh,” Elain breathed, confused, which was the last thing he needed as the concentrated breath brushed the inside of his wing joint, causing him to involuntarily roll his shoulders, sending the edge of said wing straight into her, her hands flying up to catch the wing and protect herself out of instinct.

Azriel fought back the yelp which threatened to draw attention to them, tucking his wings in tightly and taking a step forward, thankful for the concealment the cloak offered for the erection which was now threatening to bulge out of his leathers.

“This way,” he croaked, turning slightly and guiding Elain in the direction of their target, not willing to verbally acknowledge what had just happened. He was in such deep shit, because though part of him knew this wasn’t the time or the place for it, another part of him hadn’t wanted her to stop—had wanted to let her breaths torture him until he completely lost it and ruined the mission by making them disappear in a crowd of wandering eyes which would possibly alert the queens to the presence of magic-wielders.

He would have taken Elain back to that tent, and then … No. He shook his head minutely to clear it. He couldn’t give into those temptations. She didn’t feel that way about him, and he didn’t deserve her, and he just needed to stay the course.

* * *

Elain had been shocked by Azriel’s sudden startle. _Of course_ she had accidentally gotten too close to his wings, and _of course_ she had ended up upsetting him. She was so godsdamned idiotic to not have realized that it had taken her longer to stop than he had. She had basically been on a collision course with his wings.

Now, she merely trailed him once more, trying to leave an even healthier distance as he stoically wove his way through the crowd. His demeanor had slipped a fraction, no longer quite as convincing as that of a drunkard and more measured. As if her violation had shaken him so much that he couldn’t concentrate. She could only hope that she hadn’t ruined the mission.

As they approached the outskirts, Elain noticed Azriel begin to slow, cautiously taking in a grandiose farmhouse. This must be where the queens were holed up. He skirted the perimeter under guise of checking out the wares at various food stands on the edge of the crowd before slipping off to the neighboring building, a good hundreds of yards away.

This one was unprotected, and as Azriel broke from the crowd, he pulled her up beside him, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and leaning into her intently, transforming them into a couple merely looking for a little privacy.

He slunk with her to the backside of the house, where they were strictly alone and whispered in a low voice as hard as steel, “There are guards surrounding every entrance but none on the interior. Idiots.” She didn’t need him to tell her that his shadows had been hard at work as he staked out his target from afar, offering him these tidbits. “I’m going to slip us into the foyer, and we’ll explore from there.”

Elain gulped, the moment of truth having finally caught up with her, nodding her ascension as she felt the blanket of shadows be pulled over her and her surroundings suddenly shifting to the cozy wooden interior of the house.

Azriel immediately began slinking from room to room, peering into the cracked doors, clearly not sensing anyone in them before Elain found her footing and began following in his footsteps, treading lightly so as not to make any noise and listening for any sounds of life.

After a few minutes, Azriel shook his head at her, pointing to the stairs which the two of them carefully crept up before Elain saw Azriel’s face light up as he made a swift and silent beeline for a room at the end of the hall.

He swept the door open, visually swept the space, and then signalled for Elain to follow before gingerly latching the door again.

Elain practically gasped as she took in the map, the markers laid out carefully, detailing everything. Every Prythian force—with accurate numbers—and a surprising amount of their own, all poised on the western side of the continent, as if waiting to cross the sea and strike.

Azriel was already sifting through drawers in the desk, looking for anything and everything he could copy to take back to her sister and brother. He had just closed one drawer and poised to open another when she registered the creak in the floorboards, footsteps approaching the room.

His eyes widened as he grabbed Elain, pulling her into his chest and making haste for the corner of the room before the door could swing wide. Elain felt the veil of shadows overtake her as she stared straight into the adjoined walls, her eyes completely glossing over the form of the shadowsinger she knew to be buffering her from them as she waited in panicked silence.

She could hear soft footfalls making their way through the room, pausing every now and then, accompanied by shuffling noises. She would just have to trust Azriel to keep the two of them concealed and to judge when the danger had passed.

After a minute, her racing heart slowed, only to pick up again once her mind was free to remember just how close she was to this mighty Illyrian warrior whom she was now flush up against. Too flush, she realized at the weight digging into her stomach, obvious despite the many layers between them. Only then did her heart leap from her chest, her every instinct screaming at her to thread her fingers through his hair, regardless of the fact that they could be caught at any moment.

She settled for putting a steadying hand on his chest, a subtle hope against her misgivings that whatever was happening beneath his pants was a mere fluke—some of the scantily clad dancing beauties which they had passed multiple times during their journey through the crowds had surely triggered it.

So she was shocked to say the least when a calloused hand engulfed her own, his body becoming more pliable beneath hers as she felt him leaning, his breath beginning to mingle with her own in a way which had her paralyzed until … _WHAM_. 

A drawer slammed shut, causing Elain to nearly jump out of her skin, only Azriel’s other arm slung around her waist keeping her firmly in place. She buried her head into his chest, fighting to keep her breathing as even and silent as possible as time slowed to a crawl, the scuffling sounds behind her continuing for perhaps another few minutes before Elain heard the door snick shut and footsteps recede down the hallway.

She remained frozen, until she felt gentle yet strong hands on her shoulders, cautiously peeling her torso away from him, until she was looking up at where she knew him to be standing, yet the veil still hadn’t been torn away. Until she felt a familiar flutter, a familiar breath of air far too close, and the tenderest sensation of lips brushing against her own.

Elain was glad Azriel had no way of seeing all the blood which rushed to her face as she leaned into him, deepening the kiss and pressing her body into his once more.

Azriel didn’t miss a beat, taking the opportunity as an invitation to hike her legs up until they were wrapped around his waist, and planting her back against the wall as her fingers slid through the short hairs at the nape of his neck. Elain could feel a heat dropping to her core as she was thrust up against his length, which he was taking no measures to ignore anymore, her breathing coming unevenly as his tongue began to flirt with the crease of her lips, and she opened for him.

Voices sounded from downstairs, far enough away that she could tell they weren’t yet a threat, but still jarring them both from the moment, Azriel’s veil finally disintegrating as she beheld the sharp nose and immensely softened eyes of the warrior she was practically only a few measly layers of fabric away from riding.

Her cheeks were inflamed as he smiled at her, his gaze cautiously darting to the door.

“Right,” she whispered, allowing him to softly set her back on her feet before he darted back to the desk.

“We likely don’t have much time if the others have returned,” he whispered back. “Memorize every detail of that map, but don’t stray from me.”

Elain turned her attention, hazy though it was back to the enormous piece of canvas before her, doing her best to take in all the numbers and locations while she heard Azriel scribbling furiously onto parchment beside her, copying down the details of some correspondence which must have been exactly what he was looking for.

When he finished, he handed her the quill, allowing her to quickly jot her findings at the bottom of the page before neatly tidying up the room—every last speck of dust back where he’d found it—and grabbed her hand, pulling her through the shadows back to the campsite.

Elain let out a huge sigh of relief, even as Azriel was already packing their bags, prepared to fly through the night back to the safety of Prythian’s borders before he would allow himself to rest.

“What was that?” she breathed, as she helped him fold up their bedrolls, attaching everything to the pack which Azriel would strap onto his back.

“I’d say that was your first successful mission,” Azriel replied coyly, a suave undercurrent swelling up beneath his words which she knew he must be trying to quell.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Elain argued.

Azriel grimaced. “What was it to you?” Clearly, he was expecting … something from her, but what?

“Everything,” she breathed, hoping the truth wouldn’t damn her even further.

In an instant, Azriel was on her, mouth colliding with hers once again with fervor before he reluctantly pulled away. “Likewise.”

Elain was flustered as he stood up, donning his pack, and scooped her into his arms, prepared to launch them into the night.

Azriel took one look at her before murmuring, “I’m not done with you, Elain, but if I allow myself to get carried away here, I’m afraid I’ll never want to leave. And I can’t endanger you like that.”

“You promise?” Elain wasn’t sure she was breathing.

“Absolutely,” Azriel grinned as he shot off the forest floor, propelling them towards safety and, if Elain’s premonitions were correct, many more sleepless nights in the near future. For a whole different reason.


End file.
